


Pretty Boy

by KoroMarimo



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 05:59:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10483731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoroMarimo/pseuds/KoroMarimo
Summary: Who are you? What life have you left behind that you sound like a member of aristocracy among the degenerates and criminals of Team Skull? Why would you come here, when clearly your clothes and manners and pretty little features mark you an outsider in this decrepit mansion?Guzma doesn't care. What matters now is that his "pretty boy" has come home for good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt I received and I decided to go along with it and make it a fic.
> 
> Reader discretion is advised. Mentions of abuse and graphic sexual content are in this work.

“Hey, you ain’t Team Skull. ‘Chu reppin’ us for homie?!”

There’s no two ways about it. You don’t really belong in those clothes. Can’t be more than five feet tall and dressed in a Skull Tank with glasses and those skinny boy sweats, looking like some kid that ought to be crying to his mama in fear. You’d even knocked on the door for cripe’s sake! To say you look the picture of a jetlagged tourist is an understatement.

“Consider it my orders from above. I do have to please daddy after all.” You smiled, tilting your umbrella slightly so that your Glameow can be protected from the drizzle. She meows gratefully, licking her paw and cleaning her face with it as she perches on your shoulder.

“May I come in please sir? I’ve traveled such a long way, and my poor Charlotte is tired out.”

Grunt A has never met a man quite like you, wasn’t aware that guys like you existed outside of those cheesy books they sold at the gas station. But here you are with your rather pretty umbrella, one of those fancy rolling suitcases, and your “pleases” sounding like you’re the aristocratic young Earl that Team Skull robbed of his home. And what’s with your Pokémon?! He’s never seen one like that before. Ain’t no Meowth or a Litten. Definitely points to the fact that you was flew here rather than grew here.

“Uh…” Grunt A is struck dumb by the intensity in your eyes. Not even Guzma’s baritone bark makes him coherent to either deny you entry or let you inside.

“Shut the damn door ya fuckin’ cuntwaffle!” Guzma yells from the upstairs. “Was you raised in a barn boy?! My baby don’t like the cold! Yer lettin’ all the heat out!”

“Forgive me, I seem to be the one holding up the operations. May I come in daddy?” You call out into the expanse of the mansion. Your voice is unreal, not even the harsh screams of other guys comes close to matching it. Your voice doesn’t shout, rather it projects strongly against the masonry. It doesn’t incite fear, rather it politely commands respect. For obvious reasons, the word “daddy” sparks interest among the other grunts, and they all seem to come out of the woodwork to look at you before retreating back into it like frightened Wimpod when frantic stomping responds to your voice.

“Babe?! Baby! Is you here already?? Is that my pretty boy?!”

Guzma jumps down the staircase, narrowly missing a poor girl who only just manages to scramble out of the way in time. Grunt A notices your large cheeser from the corner of his eye. You seem to light up in the gloom of the dreary downpour.

“Babe!” Guzma barks again, no doubt delighted to see you with the large goofy smile he wears. To the grunt he growls, “Get the fuck outta the way an’ let him in!”

“Really… Is your cruelty necessary?” you politely step inside when Grunt A scrambles out of your pathway, thanking him kindly for letting you in and chuckling when he turns red. Guzma barely gives you time to think or put your umbrella away in a corner when he sweeps you up in his arms, planting kisses anywhere he can reach while Glameow jumps to the floor and hisses indignantly.

“Sorry babe. Hi.” Guzma grins. You can’t help but return his slobbering with gentle pecks of your own, hands stroking the sides of his face as he smiles like a fool.

“Hello.” You quip, lips pursing as you look him over. “You’re not eating properly are you?”

“Ain’t no food here babe.” He laughs, beginning to leave a trail of love bites on your neck while you tilt your head back and close your eyes as though you’re in one of those steamy movies. Grunt A has to look away, this is far to intimate a scene to be witnessing.

“That’s why yer Daddy ordered out and got this here nice chunka beef cake. Gotta good deal for it too, a lifetime supply, uh?. Look at ya, good enough to eat ‘n teasin’ me with them tight lil’ sweats.”

“Ah, I was under the impression we would have sustenance for the night, not coitus.” You reply. “Honestly… You don’t change a bit do you Guzma?”

“Nah babe. Here, lemme close the door for ya and get them bags. You’re stayin’ in my room.”

“Do be careful with that bag.” You say as he closes the big door and hoists your bag over his shoulder. “It was a gift.”

“From yer ma?”

“Yes…”

You seem to shut down for a split second, eyes misting over only to be revived again by Guzma pressing his lips against yours until you his tongue pushes past your lips, and you both begin making out in the middle of the entryway. None of the grunts had dared to utter a sound, they’d been watching this exchange during its entirety, hardly managing to speak above a breath amongst themselves. Trying to speculate who you were, and why Guzma was getting so handsy with your rear end. Didn’t he fool around with other girls? Didn’t he himself confirm rumors of being a notorious playboy of the islands? Why was he suddenly behaving as though you were the only person in the room?

“Hey…” he murmurs into your neck, pulling away from your lips and softly stroking your butt. “You’re here now wit your daddy. Ain’t no cryin’ in Team Skull babe.”

“I’d rather you didn’t in front of these poor children.” You gasp, utterly breathless from Guzma’s kiss.

“Eh, ‘s good for em!” Guzma bellows, pounding on his chest. “Gotta show ‘em whose baby ya are. Get it?!”

He addresses the room this time, grabbing you by the waist and making you laugh.

“This here’s MY baby!” he roars. “Y’all better be nice to him and make him comfy-like around here. He ain’t got nowheres to go, so he’s just like us! Show him a lil’… uh… Babe, help me… I’m blanking!”

“Hospitality?” you venture, delighted in his struggle and stroking his chest with your slender fingers.

“Yeah! What he said!” Guzma affirms. He leads the way up what was once a grand staircase, waiting for you at the top as you collect Charlotte the Glameow into your arms and make pleasant introductions to the shell shocked grunts.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Hello. Hello. Good evening.” You say as they pass you by, much too shocked to say anything in return but a few do nod.

“Baaaaaaabe…” Guzma whines.

“Alright, I’m coming.”

Before you take your leave, you turn to the grunts and give them a dazzling smile. Yet a few can’t help notice how pained you look when you make it. As though you’ve come from a terrible ordeal and are now relieved for the respite. Grunt A notices from the close proximity that you have bags under your eyes, looking as though you’ve spend many a sleepless night crying out anguish that you’re trying to hide now.

“Thank you for having me.” You say sincerely, then scurry up the steps to a waiting Guzma who immediately wraps his arm around your waist.

“Welcome home babe.” He murmurs, leaving the rest of the grunts to wonder.


End file.
